The Way to a Man's Heart
by Duo no Tsuin
Summary: Just a little fic I thought of on Valentines' Day. Vegeta and Bulma get in a fight involving ... dinner? Bra and Trunks know that a Saiyan will do almost anything for his food, right? Their plan is counting on it. VxB **Teaser**


****

Standard Disclaimers:

I don't own _DragonballZ_ or _Dragonball GT_. Heck, I haven't even seen GT, yet. So, I made up a few things to fill in the gaps. You'll know when you read it.

Yeah, that's right. This crappy story is my fault alone. *lol*

****

Warnings: 

Complete nonsense, OOCness, crazy nicknames, and possibly WAFF(Warm And Fuzzy Feelings) later on. -_- Could be seen by some as funny. Mainly, a testament to interlopers and the naivety of childhood.

But mainly . . . based on something that completely ruined my Valentines' Day for 2003. Will Vegeta and Bulma be luckier than I was?

*~~~~~~~~~~~~~**~~~~~~~~~~~~~**~~~~~~~~~~~~~*

****

They Say the Way to a Man's Heart . . .

– is through his stomach

By Duo no Tsuin

*~~~~~~~~~~~~~*

"But Onna, you promised me a dinner for Valentines' Day night!"

"I _said_ I would. You know I don't promise anything that I can't keep. The plans changed, Vegeta."

He crossed his arms and mocked her. "Oh, my mommy and daddy's vacation fell through. Plus, I have to work all day to prevent a hostile takeover of my dad's company. And to top of the cake . . . Kakkarot's wife is sick, so our children have to stay _here_. What a _perfect_ day."

"It isn't so bad."

"Bullshit. Well, Onna, I'm not coming to your bed until I get my Valentine Dinner!"

"But, Vegeta, I can't."

"Then I guess I won't see you for a year."

"You know what, Vegeta? You can't just give me an ultimatum when you don't get your way. And you can't expect everyone to do what you want when you tell them to do it. The world doesn't revolve around you anymore. You're just another earthling now!"

"Whatever. I'm going to train."

Bulma clenched her fists. "Fine. I don't care. I've got work to do anyway," she whispered to herself.

*~~~~~~~~~~~~~*

Meanwhile, two pairs of Saiyan ears put two and two together. The day started out normally enough. Bulma told them to come downstairs where they were met with a barrage of candy. They hugged their mom and dad– although he was not smiling like the rest of them. Their parents had stuff to open too. Boxes with– what Bra decided were kid sized– clothes in pinks and reds within. When breakfast was finishing the phone rang. Their grandparents had to cancel their trip and would be home by tomorrow. And then their parents had spoken. A big mistake, it had looked like to them.

"Trunks . . . what's wrong with Mommy and Daddy?"

"Dad's disappointed that he won't get dinner, that's all."

"Then why doesn't he just make it himself?"

"Because it's Valentines' Day. They're supposed to celebrate it together."

"Then tell Daddy to make dinner for them both."

Trunks stared at the girl that barred a strong resemblance to their mother. "Do you think it's that simple?"

Bra smiled. "It makes sense to me!"

"Huh . . . why didn't I think of that?"

She shrugged. "'Cause like Daddy, you exercise your body more than your brain."

"Why you–" That had hurt, but he couldn't focus on his faults when his parents were having a bad day. "Let's talk to Mom, first."

"Okay!"

*~~~~~~~~~~~~~*

"Mom?"

"What is it, Trunks?"

"Why are you working? I thought you were taking the day off?"

"Well, I was going to, but . . . "

"But what?"

"With your grandparents coming back so soon and the threat of a corporate buyout . . . I can't afford to do anything but work."

"It's that's serious, then?"

"Yes, son."

Bra spoke up. "But I thought we– that C.C.–"

"It's business, honey. Some anonymous– as of now– person has bought a large percentage of the stock; I have to find out who it is."

"Why?"

"If they own more shares of the company than your grandparents and I own together, then . . . "

"Then what, Mommy?"

"It's hard to understand, Bra. You're too young to fully understand what Mom is telling you."

"But . . . "

"Now, Trunks, it's not as if your sister is stupid–"

"I know. She's just ignorant of how the world works . . . kind of like Dad."

Bulma smiled sadly. "I guess you're right, to an extent."

"Mommy?"

"What is it honey?"

"I'm hungry. Can I have something to eat?"

Bulma turned back to the papers on her desk. "Have your brother take you to the kitchen and get a sandwich or something."

"Mommy?"

"Yes?"

"What's for dinner?"

She sighed as she looked over her shoulder at her daughter. "I don't know honey. I just don't know. I have a lot of work to do today. Now can you leave Mommy be so she can concentrate?"

Bra pouted. "Okay, Mommy."

"Come on Bra. Let's go."

*~~~~~~~~~~~~~*

Bra was sulking when they got the kitchen.

"So what do you want on your sandwich, Bra?"

"Nothing."

"Come on, Sis, don't do this to me. Where's that super Briefs brain?"

She shrugged. "I don't know."

"Well, squirt, how do you think we should fix their dinner?"

Like flicking a light switch, Bra perked up. "No, silly, _Daddy_ needs to do it!"

"Then how will we get him to do it?"

"Let's go ask him, of course."

*~~~~~~~~~~~~~*

"No."

"And why not, Dad? It's a great solution to your prob–"

"My relationship with your mother is none of your business."

"But Dad–"

"I said _no_." 

"Daddy?"

"What is it princess?"

"Can I make dinner?"

"Fine, whatever you want. Just leave me to my training." They left and Vegeta closed the door behind them.

Trunks blinked. "How do you do it?"

"Do what?"

"Get him to do what you want?"

She shrugged. "I just asked nicely, that's all."

"But you may have put us in an even bigger mess than before."

"How?"

"Do you have _any_ idea how to make dinner for a Saiyan."

She thought about it. "Make a lot!"

"Good grief."

*~~~~~~~~~~~~~*

Bra decided that chicken is good enough for a Saiyan and his wife. So, she and Trunks pulled out the frozen filets and placed them on a cookie sheet. "Now what, Trunks?"

"Umm, I guess we should preheat the oven."

"Great! Uh, how do we do that?"

He scratched his head. "I guess we need to pick a temperature."

"What can we pick?"

"I don't know." He stared helplessly at the keypad. "I guess we just type it in."

"Okay."

"Pick a number between one and a thousand."

"Two-hundred and fifty six."

"Why that number?"

"That's how long until my birthday!" She winked at him.

"Good enough." He typed in the number.

Nothing.

"What did I do wrong?"

"Maybe it's like the microwave . . . crook crime or something?"

"Cook time? . . . time cook! Here it is! 2-5-6."

Nothing.

"What's wrong now?"

"Maybe it _is_ like the microwave. We should set it to cook for a certain amount of time. Pick another number, squirt."

"Let's see . . . one-hundred and seven."

He looked at her.

"How many times I've seen Daddy's vein bulge on his forehead last Christmas."

"Okay." 

The oven beeped and the filament inside lit up.

"Alright! You did it, Trunksie!"

"Heh, don't call me that, Brazier."

She laughed. "What's a brazire?"

Trunks shook his head. "Nevermind."

Bra lit up. "Let's go watch some T.V. while this thing is cooking!"

"I don't know, Bra . . . "

"Aw, don't you remember, Trunks? Whenever Mommy or Grammy cook something in the oven there's a loud _ding_ just before it's done."

"Okay, then. I guess we'll watch TV while we wait for the buzzer or whatever it is."

"Alright! Princess Bra and Trunksie to the rescue!!"

*~~~~~~~~~~~~~**~~~~~~~~~~~~~**~~~~~~~~~~~~~*

To be continued?

*~~~~~~~~~~~~~**~~~~~~~~~~~~~**~~~~~~~~~~~~~*

*snickers* I know. I'm evil to leave it there. *shrugs* That's as far as I got. I need some sleep soon . . . _after_ I post this. ^_~ As always, send all comments, questions, and suggestions to:

duonotsuin@yahoo.com


End file.
